


is that a tree, or are you just pleased to see me?

by shyberius



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Connor - Freeform, Deh - Freeform, Evan - Freeform, Evan Hansen - Freeform, Fluff, Hansen - Freeform, M/M, Murphy - Freeform, Promposals, Treebros, Trees, connor Murphy - Freeform, dear evan hansen - Freeform, the most amazing trees
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-06-08 22:16:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15253212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shyberius/pseuds/shyberius
Summary: Connor plants a tree for every time Evan rejects his amorous advances.Or: Five times Connor asks Evan to prom and one time he says yes.





	1. attempt 1

Connor doesn't know how it started.

At first it was a joke he'd made with himself, a stupid throwaway remark. Then it grew into this kind of weird ritual that he somehow couldn't stop.

What happened was this: every time Connor asked Evan to prom, and every time Evan said no, Connor planted a tree. A tree in honour of Evan. Mock-honour, perhaps. 

It really started the first time. Connor, for context, was not experienced with asking people out. Especially to prom. Hell, he didn't even know how to say _hi_ to someone, it seemed, without offending them. (Exhibit A: Jared Kleinman. Once Connor had leaned back on his chair in class, closer to Kleinman's desk, and Kleinman had whispered, "don't come closer, prick.")

In hindsight, it could have gone better if Connor hadn't treated it like a video game and Evan as some kind of checkpoint he had to pass. Connor had been closing his locker, and Evan had walked down the corridor like a moving target.

"Hey!" Yelled Connor in Evan's general direction.

Evan turned around, startled. He'd been lost in thought, already thinking about going home, when his peace was shattered.

"Go out with me!" Shouted Connor over the heads of the other students. It was meant to sound like a question, but it sounded a lot more like a threat than he would have liked.

Evan's eyes widened and he quickened his pace, walking straight past Connor without another word. He looked scared. _Am I scary?_ Connor wondered, frowning. Either way, an imaginary sign flashed over his head, one that read _mission failed_ , and Connor went home defeated.

As he sat in his room, he reflected upon his short-lived and rather spectacular failure. And, as usual, his thoughts spiralled out of proportion: how many times would he ask this boy out, and how many times would he fail?

After a while, being rejected by Evan became more than just a rejection: it became a symbol of Connor failing in general. Maybe that's why he pinned all his hopes on getting Evan to say yes: he needed a sign that he could at least succeed in _something_.

So Connor resolved to plant a tree for every time Evan rejected his proposal to prom. This was partly because he knew Evan loved trees. But it was mostly because he wondered whether he'd have to plant a whole forest before Evan ever went to prom with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And if you think Evan's the only one with forest expertise, you can think again.


	2. attempt 2

There was a lot more to planting a tree then Connor had originally thought. In that respect, he guessed, planting a tree was like convincing Evan to go to prom with him: it took more time and effort than he intended, but there was no backing out once he'd started.

The upside was that, while planting the tree, Connor had a lot of thinking time. In the car to Home Depot, he thought about why he was asking Evan to prom in the first place.

It had taken a long time for Evan to grow from the small, stuttering kid in class to the boy who now occupied of Connor's thoughts. Hell, feelings like these didn't just happen overnight.

Over time, Connor had found himself latching onto Evan's little habits: the way he wiped his hands on his jeans when he was nervous (literally all the time), the way he folded the corner of the page of The Catcher in the Rye (ever so carefully), the musical lilt of his voice when he talked about something he loved. Then Connor found himself wondering what his hand would feel like in his. How he felt about The Catcher in the Rye - did he find Holden Caulfield a sympathetic character? Whether he'd ever talk about Connor the way he talked about jazz or trees.

Then it suddenly became real for Connor. He didn't just want to fantasise about these things; he wanted them to come to life. And what better way to start a conversation with Evan than with the topic of prom? It was the perfect opportunity.

Connor smiled, pulling into the Home Depot driveway. What a beautiful mess he'd pulled himself into.

 _Where did you even find trees anyway? On shelves?_ Connor wandered the nearly empty aisles. Thank goodness no one else wanted to be in Home Depot on a Monday evening - he wasn't prepared to be caught shopping for trees by someone like Kleinman. Imagine how that conversation would go. _Hey, I'm in love with your family friend, and I'm planting a tree for every time he rejects me!_

The only person likely to be here at this time was his dad. Probably looking for the latest fertiliser to make their front yard look picture perfect.

Finally Connor reached the back shelf, where a few sad looking saplings stood. He picked the one that looked the least dead and brought it to the counter, throwing down what he hoped was enough money.

Now for the next part: where to plant it? Nowhere near _la maison des Murphys_ , clearly, or else his mother would have a fit. Not in the park either, because people were bound to see him, and he'd get teased mercilessly. There was practically nowhere in the area Connor would be able to plant this pathetic tree he'd bought.

Except the orchard.

That's how he found himself in the orchard at nightfall, stooping over a hole in the ground. At least it was quiet, but the light was fading and he needed to work fast if he was going to plant this stupid tree.

As he smoothed over the earth, he stood up to admire his work. The sapling stood upright from the ground, a few leaves shining at its top. It didn't even look half bad - it was probably his greatest achievement since getting a math trophy in seventh grade. And he'd cheated in the test that time, so it didn't even count.

He was just about to leave, putting the shovel into his shoulder bag, when he heard a quiet rustling from somewhere behind him. The rustling got louder; Connor squared his shoulders. It better not be a mugger - he wasn't in the mood to get mugged. Imagine having to explain to Cynthia Murphy that you'd had $200 stolen off you because you were loitering around an orchard at 11pm.

So, just to be safe, Connor pulled out the shovel again, holding it up. When he turned around, a dark figure was standing there, completely still. "I haven't got any money!" Connor hissed, swinging the shovel in the figure's direction.

"Ow," came the feeble voice of the figure.

"Wait. What..." Connor fumbled for his phone and turned on the flashlight. "Evan Hansen?"

Of course. Of _course_ the one person crazy enough to hang around the orchard at 11pm - apart from Connor himself - was Evan Hansen.

And Connor had just hit him with a shovel. "Shit. Sorry. I thought you were a creepy mugger or something."

Evan shrugged, avoiding eye contact and rubbing his arm. "Don't worry. I...I thought so too."

"You thought you were a mugger?"

"No! I thought...I thought you were," Evan looked mortified. "Just...just because you were...wearing black and -"

"Hey, don't worry. It's dark, it's shady, and we both thought we were going to mug each other." Connor was just trying to make him feel calm and recover the image Evan probably had of him as a criminal weirdo. "But we were both wrong! Go figure."

Why was it that, whenever Connor tried to sound cheerful, he always sounded fake?

Evan was still rubbing the arm that Connor had hit. That was when Connor realised: "That's the arm you broke! I _hit your broken arm_." He proceeded to let out a string of profanities that would have made his parents disown him.

"No! No, it's fine. Really." Evan seemed to be more terrified at the prospect of Connor being upset than the pain lancing up his arm. Which had Evan written all over it, really.

"Okay. Wow, I don't think I'd have forgiven yourself if I'd, like, re-broken you arm." Connor scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.

They stood in the darkening orchard for a few minutes, not saying anything. Finally Connor spoke up. "I'm also, um, sorry for yelling at you. I yelled at you in the corridor?" It was almost as if Connor was convincing himself it was real at this point.

But Evan raised his eyebrows, remembering the incident at school. "It's...it's fine. Don't worry."

More silence. "Well," Connor threw the shovel back into his bag, grateful that Evan hadn't asked why he was carrying a shovel, "I'll go now. See you at school?" It was meant to sound casual, but he hated how desperate he sounded.

"Sure," said Evan quietly.

Connor wondered why _he_ had been in the orchard in the first place. Sure, he liked trees. But at 11pm? Couldn't he like trees at a more convenient time?

As they both made their ways to their respective cars, Connor turned back. "It's, um, prom soon. And I was just -"

Evan had already shut the door of his car. He must have not heard him.

Connor stood in the orchard - alone again - as Evan's tyres kicked up dust in his eyes.

Attempt two, and he'd been rejected again. How many times would it take?


	3. attempt 3

Okay. No yelling. No hitting people with shovels.

Those were the two rules of promposals Connor had learned so far. Two rejections from Evan, two trees planted in the orchard, and two rules.

This was the most learning he'd done since he'd actually payed attention in class. Which had only been once, because they were learning about The Catcher in the Rye, and he knew Evan had read it.

Okay. He was ready this time. The last two times hadn't been planned - they'd been poorly-executed whims.

Evan wasn't a whim. He was a carefully-planned future that Connor saw in his mind. At least that was what Connor was thinking, while he waited for him after school.

But of course, like all plans Connor made, they were inevitably screwed up one way or another. Usually by himself.

He knew that Evan went to the Mathletes meet up after school every Thursday (the _nerd_. How sickeningly adorable) and wouldn't be out until four. Thus here Connor was, loitering in the school parking lot and looking like a public inconvenience.

He even knew Evan's parking space - it was three spaces to the left of his own. And the entire lot was empty - perfect for his plan.

Five minutes late, Connor spotted Evan leaving the school, his backpack close round his shoulders and his gaze fixed on the ground. He always left alone.

Now for the hard part: looking as if their meeting was just by chance, as if Connor hadn't been waiting here for fifteen minutes. He approached Evan, hoping that whatever expression he was wearing looked like a smile. "Hey! How's your arm?"

Evan jumped slightly, not having noticed him there. "It's fine, thanks. Just aches a bit." He wrung his hands together, his voice rising in pitch. "Not that that's, you know, your fault, or anything. Totally mine. I mean, I shouldn't have even _been_ in the orchard -"

"Evan, it's fine." Connor held up a hand as if that could stop him from panicking. "It totally was my fault."

They stood like that for a few seconds, then Evan's face broke into a laugh. _Not_ what Connor had expected. Evan's laugh was quiet but contagious, and before he knew it they were both laughing. "You hit pretty hard, though," said Evan in between laughs. "Do you watch the boxing?"

Evan had made a _joke_. And, for the first time, he was talking to Connor as if he wasn't terrified of him.

"Hell yeah. World Heavyweight Championships." Connor actually did watch the boxing, when Zoe wasn't keeping up with the Kardashians or whatever. It was so satisfying: every fight had a victor. Every punch had a target.

"My mom never lets me watch it," Evan was smiling. "She says it's too violent."

Connor made a face. "That's the whole point."

"I know. And what does she expect me to do: get into a fight?"

"Oh, I don't know," Connor shrugged. "You'd be pretty good in a fight, because no one'd _expect_ you to win."

"Was that a compliment?" Evan tilted his head, still smiling.

There were two things about Evan that surprised Connor. One was that he wasn't stuttering: his words came out clearer than he'd ever heard them. The other thing was that Evan was _funny_. He was quippy and smart and so many other things he'd never expected. "You can always take it as a compliment from me, Hansen."

"Noted." Then Evan's phone buzzed, and he pressed it to his ear, turning away. Connor didn't know who he was talking to, but he could see Evan visibly shrink. His shoulders slouched, his chin lowered, and his sentences became stunted again. The suddenness of the change was unnerving.

Finally Evan slid the phone back into his pocket. "That's my mom. She's got some time off, so I've - I've got to go." He smiled again, but this time it was different. More closed off.

"Does she not get much time off?" Asked Connor.

"She works day shifts." Was all Evan said stonily, indicating that the conversation was over. Connor didn't have much time to do what he'd come here to do in the first place.

As Evan was about to open his car door, Connor started forward. "Could I just ask you something? Quickly?"

Evan frowned slightly. It was as if their light-hearted talk about boxing had never happened. "Sure."

"I was..." Connor didn't know where to look, to his just fixed his eyes on an empty parking spot. "I was wondering if you wanted to go to prom with me?"

Only it was supposed to sound coherent, but in reality it sounded like _Iwaswonderingiftyouwantedtogotopromwithme_?

Evan looked like a deer in headlights. "I...I'm sorry, I can't..."

This wasn't going well. Connor was already mentally planning where to plant the next tree.

"I have to go." Muttered Evan, climbing into his car without another word. Connor had never seen someone get into their car and start driving so fast.


	4. attempt 4

Connor woke up with soil in his fingernails and the deep conviction that he was doing something wrong. That he was doing the whole asking-Evan-to-prom thing wrong. And maybe, if he gave up, he'd have cleaner hands and a stronger sense of dignity.

Neither clean fingernails nor dignity, however, were that important to Connor. His priorities included things like the cheap acquisition of weed and Evan Hansen's approval. Only not in that order, but you get the gist.

The gist was that Connor wasn't ready to give up yet. Three trees was hardly a forest, he reasoned to himself as he dragged himself out of bed again. It wasn't even a copse.

Perhaps this promposal would need more planning than the last three. Perhaps Connor needed to be more subtle, less upfront. Evan didn't like having attention drawn to himself, nor did he like being put on the spot.

Connor scribbled the note in his best writing on the back of his notebook, tearing out the page and pocketing it. He never used the notebook in class anyway - he just made drawings of his least favourite teachers meeting varied and unpleasant deaths. These drawings were usually graphically realistic, but it was okay because no one else saw them.

Before he closed the notebook and shoved it in his bag, a drawing he'd done recently caught his eye. It was one of his English teacher having his arms hacked off with a rusty chainsaw.

It turned out that Connor had a very vivid imagination.

He snapped out of his thoughts and commenced the drive to school, working out in his head which lessons he had with Evan. The plan was this: he'd make sure he got a seat near Evan, then he'd pass him the note. The note read this:

_Will you go to prom with me? I'm not as creepy as I look._

_Sincerely,_

_C.M._

Connor smiled to himself at his ingenuity. The message was concise and to the point. All Evan had to do was sign a yes or a no, and pass it back. He wouldn't even have to talk to Connor if he didn't want to.

The class they had together turned out to be the only class: English. When Connor walked in (on _time_. Connor was never on time. The things he did for this boy), he found Evan sitting in a seat near the back. He slipped into a chair behind him, slouching as far down as he could in his chair.

A few minutes into the lesson (which was about Yeats, or Keats, but they both sounded the same in Connor's head), he reached out and tapped Evan's shoulder. After checking that the teacher wasn't looking, Evan turned. The look of dismay on his face when he recognised Connor was less than flattering, but he let it slide. At least he'd got Evan's attention.

Connor brought the note out of his pocket and handed it to Evan, who took it quickly then turned around, his cheeks flaming. Connor should have guessed that Evan hated bending school rules.

Everything was going to plan. Evan was reading the note, though Connor couldn't read his expression. Everything was -

"Hansen!" The teacher - his name was Mr Oakley, or Oakes or something - had stopped teaching and was looking straight at Evan. "Are you passing notes?" His voice rose with each sentence. "In my class?"

Connor could only see the back of Evan's head, but he could see all the muscles in his neck stiffen and the note fall out of his hands. And his hands were trembling. "N-no, Mr Oakes."

"Then what," Mr Oakes marched down the classroom towards Evan's desk, "is this?" He snatched up the note, twirling it tantalisingly between his fingers.

He wasn't going to read it out, was he? Evan looked up at the teacher pleadingly. Connor held his breath. It felt like the entire class were holding their breaths too, each eye trained on the note.

Mr Oakes's eyes scanned the paper silently. That was when a horrifying though occurred to Connor: what about those gory drawings he did of teachers? Had he checked on the back of the paper, in case one of those pictures was on it?

 _Shit._ Now Connor had a full view of the paper. On one side was his proposal to Evan; on the other side was a particularly detailed sketch of Mr Oakes himself getting his eyes gouged out with pencils.

Mr Oakes' voice was deadly quiet. "You," he pointed a quivering finger at Evan, "will see me in detention after school today."

Evan looked as if he wished he could evaporate into thin air. As he opened his mouth to protest, the teacher raised a hand to silence him. "No compromises, Hansen. The is unacceptable behaviour, and I expected better of you."

Connor couldn't - _wouldn't_ \- let Evan pay for what was his fault. He stood up, ignoring the sharp intakes of breaths from the other students. "It was me," he exclaimed. "It was my note. Evan has nothing to do with it."

Mr Oakes fixed him with a glare that could re-freeze the melting ice caps in Antarctica.

Connor knew promposals failed sometimes. But he hadn't expected his fourth attempt at Evan to land them both in detention.

That wasn't just a failure. That was a spectacular disaster that only Connor Murphy could pull off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *slow clap*


	5. attempt 5

Evan Hansen turned up early to everything. Perhaps it was because he didn't want to upset anyone, and he thought that not being late was the way to do it.

Connor liked to think, when Evan showed up five minutes early to detention, that it was because Evan just couldn't wait to spend more time with him in a cramped, stuffy room. But, in reality, it was just the way Evan was. And the way _Connor_ was meant that he turned up late to everything. Thus he was given another detention as soon as he walked into detention late.

If you asked Connor why, he'd say that life was unnecessarily cruel to him. But then again, life had landed him in the same room as Evan Hansen, so he must have been doing _something_ right.

Connor made to sit in the desk next to Evan, but the teacher waved a hand. "Don't distract him, Murphy. Sit there," he gestured to a seat as far away from Evan as possible.

Connor scowled, throwing himself into his given seat as dramatically as he could. What was the point of detention with Evan if he couldn't be close to him?

They began their hour of torture in silence. Connor hazarded a glance at Evan, who was looking straight ahead, clearly just wanting this to be over with.

No, more than that. Evan Hansen looked like he wanted to disappear.

_I guess that makes two of us, doesn't it?_

Detention was supposed to be a time to - what was the word? - _reflect_ on what you'd done wrong. Connor had never been one to reflect on his actions - he was more of a live fast, die young kind of guy - but as he sat in silence, his past attempts at asking Evan to prom flashed through his mind. After all, if it hadn't been for Connor's feelings for Evan, he wouldn't even be in the mess in the first place.

One. His shout echoing though the school corridor.

Two. Nearly breaking Evan's arm again with a shovel.

Three. Standing alone in the school parking lot.

Four. The incriminating note in class.

Five. Maybe this time would be different. Maybe, with a bit of courage and determination, Connor would actually succeed in something for once.

Maybe that _something_ was Evan Hansen.

Time flew in Connor's head, and detention ended before he was even ready. The teacher dismissed them, and they filed out of the classroom, heads down in relief. Evan darted out of the room like an arrow, clearly anxious to get out of Connor's way. But Connor wasn't about to accept that. He had an apology to make.

"Hey," he jogged after Evan, his battered converses squeaking against the linoleum floor of the corridor. "I didn't mean for you to get in trouble."

Evan bowed his head, muttering, "it's okay."

"But it's not," Connor matched his hurried steps with his own. "Aren't you mad at me just a bit? I landed you an hour's detention!"

He didn't know why he was trying to get a rise out of Evan. It was just that he'd been expecting some kind of anger from him. Anger was his language; he could interpret it. But silence? He didn't understand it, and that bothered him in ways he couldn't explain.

Evan stopped suddenly, turning to him. He looked tired, Connor realised with dismay. His eyes had soft purple shadows underneath them, and his lips were set in a thin line. Connor half expected him to burst into tears.

But instead, Evan did something Connor had never expected: he drew out the slip of paper from his pocket and handed it to him silently. It was the slip of paper Connor had asked him to prom with. The slip of paper that had landed them in this situation in the first place.

Evan had folded it neatly into quarters. Connor opened it slowly, running his fingers along the fine creases. Nothing about the note had changed, expect for one word in Evan's tidy cursive handwriting, just below Connor's initials.

 _Yes_.

Connor looked up, his heart hammering against his ribcage. But there was no trace of Evan; he had gone, leaving nothing behind him but an empty space and this slip of paper.

So Connor's fifth attempt at asking Evan to prom hadn't even been an attempt. He hadn't needed to try. Because Evan had already said yes - _yes_ \- and that was all that mattered.

Well. He'd technically written it, but it counted nonetheless.

Now all Connor had was four trees and a slip of paper to prove that it had been real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your kudos and comments! I hope you're enjoying reading this fluffy mess as much as I'm enjoying writing it (which is a lot).


	6. prom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Imagine Connor wearing the suit that Mike Faist wore to the 2017 Tonys. That's how I picture him in this chapter.

Now Connor and Evan were forever immortalised in an overpriced plastic keying Evan had bought for ten dollars. He'd made Connor pose for the picture: in it, Connor looked like he wanted to kill the cameraman, and Evan was smiling shyly, fiddling with the little flower in his lapel.

(Connor had given him the flower. It was a bluebell, and he'd picked it from his mom's prize flower bed.)

Evan had brought him the key ring to commemorate their night together. Connor simultaneously loved and hated it - hated it because it was tacky and capitalist, and loved it because the lighting made Evan's eyes shine even brighter than usual. He'd attached it to his car keys, where it would stay forever (or until Connor got a new car. Then he'd just transfer it to his new car keys).

He took the keys out from his pocket as he said to Evan, "There's one last place I want to take you."

Evan's face was flushed and his eyes shining. It had been a good night - a _great_ night, actually, if you discounted Evan's drink nearly getting spiked. For one night only, Evan Hansen hadn't just been the wallflower and Connor Murphy hadn't been the freak. They'd been together. They'd danced to _Teenage Dirtbag_ and _Mr Brightside_.

Connor was an awful dancer. Evan hadn't stopped laughing until the songs had finished.

"Sure," said Evan. They were standing outside the school auditorium, out of the way of the crowds. "As long as it's not...too far away? It's just, I need to be back by midnight."

"It's a date." Connor winked at him clumsily and opened the passenger door for him. When he climbed into his own seat and turned the key in the ignition, key-ring-Connor glowered up at him.

After barely a minute of driving, Evan blurted out, "Oh! I know where we're going."

Connor nodded, not taking his eye off the road.

"This is where you hit me with a shovel," recalled Evan cheerfully, as if it were a pleasant memory.

"Also known as the Orchard, but that works too," said Connor grimly, pulling up by the fence. "I want to show you something."

Connor didn't know why he was doing this. It had seemed like a good idea when he'd been half tipsy on mocktails, but now the effect had worn off. "Over here," he led Evan to the forgotten corner where he'd planted his trees. The light was fading, turning the sky into a riot of blues and purples (of _course_ it was the blue that matched Evan's suit exactly. As if Evan couldn't look any more perfect), but the silhouettes of the trees were still visible.

Evan automatically reached out to touch one of the leaves. His touch was so gentle, as if the tree were a person and he wanted to treat it well.

Connor distinctly wondered what those hands would feel like tangled in his hair.

 _Stop it, Murphy_. Evan was rattling off the Latin names of the trees in quick succession, oblivious to Connor's thoughts. "I haven't seen these trees here before," muttered Evan. "Someone must have planted them."

"Yeah. I did." The words tumbled out of Connor's mouth before he could check whether they were okay.

Evan's eyes lit up. "You did?" There was a note of awe in his voice; perhaps he was impressed.

No one had been impressed with something Connor had done before.

"I actually, uh..." Connor twisted the button in his jacket to distract himself. "I actually planted a tree every time I asked you to prom. It was stupid, really, I don't even know why - " he broke off, unsure of what to say. There would be no going back now - he couldn't pretend that he wasn't a complete weirdo.

He wished Evan would say something. But it turned out that he didn't need to. Instead, he stepped closer, so close that Connor could feel his warm breath in his neck (Evan was that much shorter than him. It was so adorable, he couldn't breath).

"So I guess - " _Stop talking, Murphy._ But he couldn't stop. "They're yours now. If you want."

He could feel the flower in Evan's lapel tickle his chest. He could feel everything, everything at once. The words came again without warning. Connor said, "I'm yours now, too. If you want."

Evan responded in the most unexpected way. He leaned up onto the balls of his feet and placed a kiss on his chin. Connor wouldn't even have believed it was real unless he had seen it - it was soft, gentle, a butterfly kiss. A feather kiss.

Connor dipped his chin down and pressed his lips to Evan's, afraid he would hurt him, afraid he would pull away. But neither of those things happened. Instead, Evan kissed back, and the kiss seemed to say, _I'm yours too, I'm yours I'm yours I'm yours._

Connor guessed they'd always belonged to each other. It had just taken five embarrassing situations for them to realise that. Five attempts at asking Evan to prom. And four trees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for joining this crazy ride with me! I hope you enjoyed it. Let me know what you thought of the story as a whole! :)))


End file.
